


Make Me Bleed Colors of Passion

by MrSpears



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Dark Comedy, Drama, Jealousy, Love Triangles, M/M, Trans Character, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:40:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4206594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSpears/pseuds/MrSpears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronald and Grell are roommates, and Ronald is secretly in love. But Grell has eyes only for William, the severe Head of their department. What lengths will Ronald go through to deserve Grell's affections, and what will he find himself capable of when a demon steps in his way? Modern AU. Rated M for future scenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sleeping Until Noon

Grell’s laptop was burning her pale thighs, but she was too lazy to acquire pants. They were all the way in the bedroom, anyway, a journey she had deemed ‘not worth it’ for a Saturday morning at the small hour of noon. Why she was even awake, she didn’t know, but she had rolled out of bed at around eleven and had not managed to back to sleep since. 

Her coffee cup was sitting on the small table by her legs, her feet resting against the worn edge. The coffee had long gone cold since she lost interest after the first sip, the white rim of the mug marked by a smudge of faint red lipstick – a leftover from the night before. 

Tumblr was full of porn today. 

Of course, when was it not? 

The second bedroom door opened just down the small apartment’s hallway. Grell smiled and reached over her laptop to grab her stone cold coffee mug, bringing it to her lips to hide her expression. 

Ronald staggered into view, sweeping his hands through his messy hair and groaning. 

“Grell,” he whined, sliding his hand over the messy countertop and coming perilously close to upsetting a few empty beer bottles. “Where are my glasses?” 

“They’re not on your nightstand?” Grell kept hitting the ‘down’ key. So. Much. Porn. 

“Mmph,” Ronald stumbled back into his room to look. Grell giggled and set her cup back down, adjusting herself more comfortably on the couch. Things were always so much more interesting after Ronald was awake. 

Nearly ten minutes later, he came back into the living room, his laptop tucked under his arm and the cord dragging behind him. He plopped down next to her and opened it up. It was a Mac, the front covered in stickers of various indie bands no one had ever heard of and pseudo-philosophical quotes. It was as pretentious a machine as they come. He kept insisting it was already that way when he bought it off one of their coworkers. 

“What are you up to?” he asked thickly. He sank into the couch, his hair sticking out in every direction, Grell wasted no time in turning around, sliding her legs over his lap and lifting her knees up just a little, flashing him a preview of seamless black panties. 

“Tumblr,” she said. 

“Mm,” he tilted is head back, waiting for the computer to boost up. “This always takes forever.”

“You have it loaded down with so much music, I am not surprised.” She said loftily. 

“As if my music took up more space than your porn.” He glared at her over the dark rims of his glasses. “How does your computer manage to run so nicely, with all of that jizz stuck between the keys?” 

“Well, for one thing,” she said cheerily, ignoring the jab. “It is not a three year-old Mac.”

“I hate you.” His computer finally booted, and he moved his finger over the mousepad lazily. “Go away.” 

“I can’t,” she said. “I’m so comfy.” 

“Mm.” he leaned over, reaching around his computer to grab her coffee cup. He lifted it to his lips and took a long sip, his face instantly contorting in disgust. 

“It’s cold,” he said. 

“I’ve been up for an hour.” She replied, pushing her lips out into a pout. 

“This is gross.” He took another sip. “I don’t want to go to work tonight.”

“Neither do I. Do we have the same shift?” 

“I’ll tell you if I can pull up my schedule.” He said with no small amount of bitterness as he clicked the Safari icon twenty times. “I fucking hate this shit.” 

He was always so eloquent in the mornings. 

“Oh, so look at this.” She opened up another tab, her slender fingers tapping the keys briskly. “I found a list of surgeons in our area. This one,” she turned the screen around and pointed at a name he didn’t recognize, “Can do my top surgery for only six thousand dollars. He doesn’t accept insurance or anything, but it’s such a steal, and he has good reviews. Don’t you think I deserve breasts, Ronald?”

She did deserve breasts. She deserved everything in the world. And if Ronald had all of the money ever, he would have dropped 12k to make sure she got the best doctor possible. 

As it stood, he was still her junior in the office. She made more than him, and it was her income that kept them from falling behind on rent payments. He knew she didn’t have extra money because she was busy making sure he didn’t sink, and it was an eternal pang of guilt in his chest. 

“Yeah,” was all he ended up saying, flashing her his biggest smile. “Those right there.” He pointed to one of the example pictures. “But in DDD’s.” 

She laughed and kicked him, pulling her laptop back around protectively. “Not even remotely, you little asshole, I am going with a far more respectable size. I’m thinking a full C would complement my svelte figure quite charmingly. Don’t you agree?” 

He did agree. Very much so.

“You know, I’m wondering if I’ll be able to pick more shifts up at work.” He switched topics as he scrolled through the company’s staff server. Will had a flawless system for organizing their schedules, but no one could ever figure it out. “I mean, since Will seems to be warming up to me a bit…” 

That was wishful thinking. William T. Spears never ‘warmed up’ to anybody. Simply speaking to the man was like dropping an ice cube down the back of your shirt. 

“Don’t waste your time, honey.” Grell’s eyes sparkled at the mention of Will. “Enjoy being a junior while you can. When you get a promotion – if you get high enough marks for one – it’s nothing but work, more work, and overtime.” She groaned. “So much overtime. And the paperwork! Will never lets it go.” She giggled, lowering thick dark lashes and sighing. “But … he is so attractive when he’s all worked up!” 

Ronald made a face. “I think he’s queer.” 

Grell’s mouth fell open, scandalized. 

“He is not!” she gasped, jerking the couch pillow out from behind her and whacking him over the top of his head. “Well…maybe. What if he is! It just increases my chances, doesn’t it?” 

Ronald grinned, grabbing the pillow from her and whacking her back. “Yeah. A little mutually beneficial employer-employee relationship?” 

“You’re just jealous!” she scoffed, putting her arms up to shield herself from the blow. 

“I’m not jealous. We’re not even dating!” he sighed, tossing the pillow onto the chair across from them. “What time is it, even?” 

“Almost one,” she said, without looking down. 

“Shit.” He rubbed his face, adjusting his glasses. “I guess we should eat and then I ought to take a shower. Who knows how long we’re going to be kept tonight…” he closed his laptop. “What do you want to eat? I want takeout.” 

“I want an eggroll. Let’s get Chinese.” She picked up her laptop by its screen, setting it down on the floor as she slid her legs away from his lap. “Let’s go to that filthy little place on the corner, the one attached to the convenience store. We’re out of beer.” 

“But we hate that place,” Ronald protested. 

“Sure, but if we eat there one more time, maybe it will grow on us?” she flashed him a winning smile and stood up. She swept her flame red hair up into a high ponytail and snapped a black elastic band around it. Her black t-shirt rode up when she lifted her arms, and Ronald got a full view of sharp hipbones, as well as a teasing glimpse of her ruby navel piercing. 

“I suppose I should put on pants.” She said, turning around her shaking her round, well-proportioned ass at him. “What do you think?” 

He was glad he had his laptop on his lap; that was for damn sure. Although the warmth that it emanated wasn’t helping. 

“Pants are overrated.” Was all he managed to say.

“You’re right. I’ll find shorts.” She disappeared down the hall. 

Ronald watched her go, his mouth suddenly dry. He reached out to take another sip of disgustingly cold coffee. 

This was going to be a long day.


	2. What is Actually the Worst Day... Probably

The office coffee maker sputtered angrily when Ronald hit the square button. It grumbled for a minute, considering whether or not to perform its most basic function, before it spit the black coffee into his Styrofoam cup. He pulled it away before the rim could overflow, taking his other hand off the button as he did so. It dribbled coffee onto his hand, nearly giving him a third degree burn through his gloves. Ronald winced and turned around, putting the rim of the cup to his lips and eagerly taking a sip. 

The foam cup crunched between his hand and the chest that he smacked into, coffee spilling everywhere. 

“Oh, fuck!” Ronald swore, looking up apologetically. “I’m so, so sorry, I…” his embarrassment transformed to horror when he saw himself looking into the cold, disapproving eyes of his supervisor, William Spears. 

“…Jesus.” Ronald dropped to his knees, dragging a handful of thin paper napkins down with him, doing his best to mop up the mess. “I’m so sorry sir. Are, are you all right?” he belatedly remembered that Will’s blazer had received the worst of the spill, more so than the floor. He rose with dizzying speed, grabbing another handful of napkins and pressing them against William’s chest, his face on fire. 

Grell was slouching casually at the break room table, her polished red fingernails tapping out a message on the sliding keyboard of her phone. She wasn’t even supposed to be texting on break. Maybe she was hoping Will would reprimand her. 

“You were late today, Knox.” William said, seemingly unfazed, but there was a thread of exasperation in his voice. 

“I – yes, I was.” Ronald didn’t even have an excuse. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” 

“See that it does not. You have been late every day this week. I would hate to be forced to dismiss you over such an easily cured habit.” Will’s icy glare fell onto Grell, who certainly felt it, for she looked over at him and smiled, popping her pink bubblegum resolutely. 

“And you, Sutcliff.” He said. “You have not turned in a single sheet of paperwork for three weeks. Do not force me to demote you.” 

That was one thing about William… he very rarely used pronouns. Grell found it absolutely endearing. 

“I’ll catch up on it tonight, sir.” She said breathily, looking up at him through heavy black eyelashes. “I’ll stay late, if you’d like.” 

“No need. Take it home.” He removed the last of the napkins sticking to his blazer and pushed them into Ronald’s hands. “And put away that phone.”

“Yes, sir.” Grell said, ducking her head contritely. 

William walked out, and it was as if he dragged the glaciers of an entire ice age behind him. 

As soon as he was gone, Grell squealed, kicking her feet. 

“You know,” she said excitedly, her cheeks pink. “I think he is starting to like me!” 

“He told you to fuck off.” Ronald said grouchily, tossing a wad of disgusting coffee-soaked napkins into the trash. “In the most William way possible.” 

“He’s so considerate.” She sighed. “I offered to stay late and he told me to go home… he knows a lady needs her beauty rest!” 

There was no point in Ronald saying anything else. He sat down at the break table, too exhausted from life to make a second attempt at coffee. 

“Who are you texting?” he asked after a minute, tempted to pull out his own phone. Better not, with the way his luck was going today. 

“I’m texting Sebby.” Grell giggled, flashing Ronald a glimpse of her screen. “See?” 

Ronald squinted at it. “Didn’t he tell you to go sit on a dildo in hell?” 

“Several times,” she sighed, sliding the phone shut and tapping the screen. “I have all of those messages saved! Do you want to see…?” 

“No!” Ronald put up his hands defensively. That was the last thing he needed. “You know, Grell, you shouldn’t antagonize him. I’m afraid that one of these days he is going to really hurt you…” 

“He won’t hurt me,” Grell said. “No one is capable of hurting me. I am far too adorable.” She booped his nose with one pointed fingernail. “Besides, Sebby is an absolute kitten. He just hides it very well.” 

“Yeah. And he has a boyfriend now too, doesn’t he?” Ronald stretched out his legs, peering at his white brogues underneath the table. They were scuffed to hell, being the only pair of shoes he actually owned, and so expensive he couldn’t bring himself to throw them out. “Some kid. Isn’t Ciel younger?” 

Grell rolled her eyes. “Far too young.” She shoved the phone back into her pocket. “He’s jailbait.” 

“Well. Sebastian seems to like him. And he doesn’t like you.” 

“Lay off me, Ronald.” Grell snipped, pushing her chair back and standing. “Just because Will bitched at you for being late doesn’t give you a right to act like a dick.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ronald said, rubbing his face. “I’m just – I guess I’m just tired, that’s all. You know how it is.” 

She snorted, shoving her chair back against the table, she turned and stalked angrily out of the break room. 

Ronald sank lower into his seat and groaned. He was so ready to go home. 

Only six more hours.


	3. Maybe in Your Dreams

Ciel ran his tongue over the head of the cherry red lollipop, sliding it into his mouth to suck on it as he flipped through the thick album of piercings and tattoos that Sebastian kept resting on the glass counter. 

Type O Negative was being played at half volume. Sebastian was in the back room with a client, some dickwit who had flipped through the damn book for half an hour before deciding on the piercing he wanted. The screen on Sebastian’s phone glowed, it began to vibrate violently against the counter. Ciel glanced down at it, puckering his lips and pulling the lollipop out with a wet pop. 

“Sebastian!” Ciel called out. “Someone is trying to text you.”

“Thank you, Ciel. I’m with a client.” Sebastian said dryly, not needing to raise his resonant voice to be heard over the music. 

Ciel glanced down again. “They sent you like…. 20 messages.” 

“Who is it?” Sebastian asked, and the client yelped like a puppy being kicked.

“Um,” Ciel tapped on the screen to light it up again. “They’re in your contacts as ‘That Bitch’.” 

“Ignore it.” Vinyl gloves snapped. “Or better yet, just delete them.” 

“You delete them.” Bored, Ciel tapped on the message icon, scrolling through the 100+ messages, only five of which were Sebastian’s. “Fucking Christ. Oh, here. The latest one is just a bunch of grin emoticons and a kissy face. She sounds like a reader.” 

Sebastian emerged from the back room, his client following him meekly, fidgeting and trying not to touch his newly pierced eyebrow. Sebastian rang him up at the counter, and the guy paid cash – one of those. He walked away without taking his receipt. Sebastian crumpled up the slip of paper in his fist and tossed it in a trash can. 

“Tell her to go sit on a dildo in hell.” Sebastian said. 

“That’s what your last five messages say. Be more creative.” Ciel stuck his lollipop back into his mouth and turned the phone sideways, tapping out a lurid message on the screen with his small thumbs.

Sebastian gave him a look, eyes narrowing, his red contacts added an extra punch to his ire. 

“What are you saying?” the twenty-five year-old demanded. Ciel grinned around his lollipop, pulling out again to reply. 

“I’m going to send her a picture of your dick.” 

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Sebastian growled. 

“Too late.” Ciel tapped ‘send’. “I hope she enjoys that.” 

“I’m going to rip out your heart and eat it.” 

“I bet she doesn’t know you have piercings down there…” Ciel gasped when he felt his boyfriend lean against him, Sebastian’s body pinning his own, smaller one to the glass. Ciel squirmed, he hadn’t even heard the older man approach.

Sebastian picked up his phone and opened up the text messages. “You’re a fucking asshole.” 

Ciel giggled. “What, would you rather I was jealous?”

“I don’t even know how she got my number.” 

“Maybe one of your friends gave it to her.” Ciel suggested.

“I don’t have friends.” Sebastian said. “And if I did, and they did that to me, they would be dead friends.” 

Ciel looked up, his bi-colored eyes as big and round as he could make them.

“But,” he said softly, “I’m your friend, aren’t I?” 

Sebastian growled, grabbing Ciel by his waist and lifting him up to sit on the counter. “No. You are my little lord.”

Ciel smiled, leaning back on his palms, entirely pleased and content to be worshipped. Sebastian bent, kissing the boy’s knee tenderly, skating a hand up his thigh. Ciel sighed and looked down, prodding the tip of Sebastian’s nose with his sticky red lollipop. Sebastian glanced up and smiled, sliding his mouth over the head of the lollipop, sucking on it, reaching further up Ciel’s thighs to brush against the erection pressing painfully against his shorts.

“Careful,” Ciel breathed. “Someone…” 

“I know,” Sebastian straightened, pulling away. “Glad it’s a Wednesday. We barely get business on a Wednesday.” He walked over to the stereo and turned up the volume, anything to distract him from his own aggressive lust. “What time do your parents want you home?”

“In time for dinner.” Ciel said. 

“That’s in like… an hour.” 

“I know.” Ciel sulked. “But they think I’m at the library today, studying for my French exam.” 

“I’ll start closing up shop, then, if we’re going to have to start driving you all the way across town.” Sebastian disappeared into the back again, and his phone vibrated. 

Ciel picked it up., unlocking the screen. A picture message from ‘That Bitch’. Ciel’s eyes narrowed as he opened it and waited for it to load.

A close-up of red lips, puckered up for a kiss, and second one, the same red lips, but a flash of tongue and white teeth. 

Ciel scoffed under his breath in disgust. 

He opened up the photo gallery and scrolled through the pictures, clicking on the first one he saw of Sebastian’s erect cock. He attached it to a message and flipped the phone over to type.

“Here you go, darling. Enjoy your jack-off material. He’s mine. ~ Ciel.” 

He hit send, and placed the phone back down on the counter. 

Within minutes the phone was exploding with another 40 messages. Ciel smirked and held down the power button on the phone until the screen flickered off. 

Sebastian would see them later. And it didn’t matter if he did… he’d just delete them without reading anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU's are.... weird but so much fun. This thing might have a plot. Maybe? I don't know. I'm just enjoying myself so enormously I don't think it actually matters.


	4. Going Nowhere at 4AM

He was basically Claude, but less creepy. 

Alois slid his tongue over the ridge of the cherry lollipop, finding his way into each dip and crevice, sucking on it ardently while studying the man seated sidelong to him on the bus. The man was tall with broad, sloping shoulders and ink black hair, swept back from his face without a single rebellious strand askew. He was one of those ideal corporate types – with a stiff black blazer pulled over a starched white shirt. His black necktie looked close enough to his throat that breathing should have been impossible. His long legs were crossed in a masculine way, with one ankle resting on top of his opposite knee, and his shoes were so polished they gleamed even in the dim lighting of the nighttime public transport. He was flipping through a small appointment book, every now and then pausing to mark something down or adjust his dark-rimmed glasses. 

Alois amended his first thought. This man was Claude, if Claude were less creepy and had a much keener fashion sense. 

His thoughts flickered briefly to his boyfriend who would undoubtedly be waiting at home; having spent all day cleaning, again, because what else was he good for? Claude hadn’t worked since they moved in together, and he had not expressed much interest in doing so. Claude was the sort of only child who had been born and raised in the suburbs and whose parents lavished adoration on him no matter what he did. He had dropped out of college, abused heroine, moved in his underage boyfriend, and made it very clear that he was not only gay, but a Satanist. Yet he showed up each year to Thanksgiving and Christmas in a tie, so they shoved cards full of money in his pockets and asked him how he was doing, and when he was going to find himself a nice girlfriend. 

Alois scrunched up his nose and slid the candy out from between his lips with a wet ‘pop’. That useless bastard would be sitting at home in a tank top and baggy jeans when he returned, listening to old records and probably crocheting something, because he could never decide if he wanted to be a hardened punk or an old lady. 

Alois was the one who worked hard to hold up his end. He could have been going to school, but instead he was on the city bus at 4AM, trying to get the taste of his last John out of his mouth. 

He deserved a treat. He really did. 

And there just so happened to an empty seat next to the one he wanted. 

The bus hit a curb. Alois used the momentum to lift himself out of his seat, grabbing on to the pole across from him. He swung around it giddily, his smooth palms squeaking over the steel. The man didn’t stir. Alois laughed loudly and plopped down into the seat next to the man, crossing his legs and leaning over his arm, pretending to be interested in the contents of the notebook. 

The notebook snapped shut, and the arm shifted, bumping Alois in the chin as it pulled away. 

“Excuse me.” the coldest, most rigid voice spoke, stabbing Alois in the gut like an icicle. It sent shivers up his spine, and he could not help the even bigger smile that spread over his face. 

“Something personal?” the boy asked coyly, tapping his pert, sharp nose with the cherry lollipop – leaving behind a spot of red. “A diary, perhaps, or a little black book?” 

The man glanced down at him, his eyes a shockingly bright green. 

The man adjusted his glasses and said nothing, simply turned his head away. 

Alois’ heart fluttered. He so hated being ignored. 

“Oh, something dirty, then?” he sneered, all but crawling over the man’s lap. “What is it? Porn? What sort of embarrassing shit are you into?” 

Alois did not get much more than that out before he felt a hand connect with his side, and he slid off the man’s lap, landing heavily on the floor. 

“Hey!” Alois growled, throwing his lollipop angrily up at the man. It missed by a meter and stuck to the cushioned seat he had just vacated. “I don’t appreciate you getting all shovey, I usually charge for that kind of thing.”

“There is an amount of personal space I reserve for myself.” The man said calmly. “And you violated it.” 

“Oh, and a nice polite, ‘Hey, could you please move?’ was totally out of the question?” Alois sat up on his knees and brushed himself off, annoyed. He stuck his tongue out at the man, flashing his viper bite piercings. 

“Yes.” The man’s voice was completely devoid of sarcasm, but Alois knew it was there. 

The bus came to a stop. The man stood up, grasping the handle of his leather briefcase with black-gloved hands. A business card came loose from the journal he was also holding, fluttering to the ground and landing just inches away from Alois. As the man turned and started walking down the bus, Alois snatched it up, his eyes devouring the name printed in smart, crisp black letters. 

WILLIAM T. SPEARS. 

“Hey!” Alois stood up, running after him, ignoring the bus driver’s dark glare. “Do you live close to here?” 

William Spears regarded the boy briefly over his shoulder. 

“Yes.” 

“Can I…” Alois paused, wondering how angry Claude would be. He decided he didn’t care. “I want to come with you.” 

William’s face did not change, but a glimmer of exasperation passed over his green eyes. 

“I don’t have anywhere to sleep.” Alois said pitifully, looking up and letting is bottom lip, red from the lollipop, tremble. “You wouldn’t make me spend the night on this bus, would you?” 

William clenched the handle of his briefcase as tightly as he could. 

“Come with me.” 

He started down the steps, the bus doors sliding open for him with a mechanical hissed. Shocked that his approach actually worked, Alois jumped down the steps and landed happily on his feet, all but skipping to keep up with the long-legged strides.


End file.
